


Before the Sun Rises

by Who Shot AR (akerwis)



Category: Singin' in the Rain (1952)
Genre: 1920s, Cravings, Friendship, Gen, POV Third Person, Past Tense, Pregnancy, late-night, root beer floats
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-08
Updated: 2009-11-08
Packaged: 2017-10-24 16:04:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/265377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akerwis/pseuds/Who%20Shot%20AR
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kathy suffers the indignities of a food craving and a sleepy Don.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Before the Sun Rises

"Don?" Kathy nudged him with her shoulder, wondering if he was awake.

From the way his snores continued, he evidently wasn't. She rolled over onto one side with some effort--she'd only begun to really show a week or two ago, but already it was much more difficult to maneuver around--and shook his arm, murmuring his name a second time. And then a third. On the fourth repetition, he muttered an annoyed "Cos, we don't go on for another hour, lemme sleep."

"Don, wake up," she hissed, shaking him harder.

With a groan, he opened his eyes and, with a glance at the full moon outside, asked, "What is it? It's three in the morning." Then, scrambling into a sitting position, "Is something wrong? Is it the baby?"

"No, nothing's wrong! And it's three-thirty, actually," she corrected him. "Don, do we have any root beer?"

"You'd know better than me, honey." Falling back against his pillow, he uttered five of the most poorly chosen words that had ever come out of his mouth. "Can't this wait until morning?"

She stared at his shadowed form for a moment, as though willing it to spontaneously combust, before getting out of bed and turning on every light in the room and hallway. When her husband cringed against the sudden burst of light, Kathy marched over to his side and grabbed hold of his arms in an attempt to drag him bodily out of bed.

"Don Lockwood, get up right now--" her voice rising with each syllable, and he finally allowed himself to be pulled into a standing position-- "This is _important_."

In the kitchen, a cursory glance into the Frigidaire revealed that there was neither root beer nor vanilla ice cream to be found. In any other situation, Kathy would have been able to predict this herself, but the gnawing desire for a root beer float had managed to overwhelm her normally sensible self into hoping that if she wished hard enough, the necessary items would be there. She sank down into a chair with defeat weighing upon her heart...until an idea struck her, and she looked up at Don with the most pitiable expression she could manage.

In a very small voice, she pointed out, "The A&W has root beer floats."

He blinked at her in disbelief. "Kathy, the A&W isn't open at this hour of the night. Can't I make you anything else?" Don began opening cupboards and pulling out boxes of food at random. "Some pancakes, a bowl of spaghetti, a Bloody Mary?"

"I _want_ a root beer float," burst out of her, a bit desperately, and she found herself resisting the urge to blink, for fear that she would begin to cry. Holding her eyes open as wide as she could failed, and within moments, she was sniffling, and Don seemed at a loss for words.

"Here, Kathy, don't cry, please don't cry--"

By this time, Cosmo had shuffled down to the kitchen himself, and made his presence known with an exaggerated yawn. At the sight of Kathy weeping in a kitchen chair and Don about to get on his knees and beg her to consider his previous offer of pancakes, he paused. "Why the long face, Kathy? Did I sleep through a national tragedy?"

"We don't have any root beer!" and it was turning into a real wail by now. She buried her face in her arms, and talked into the wood of the kitchen table. "Or any ice cream."

"She wants a root beer float," Don added in an undertone, on the off-chance Cosmo hadn't pieced that together from the conversation that had woken him up in the first place.

"So I _did_ sleep through a catastrophe!" he cried, dropping to his knees. Putting his fingers to his chin, he considered the situation, and after a moment, snapped his fingers and leapt back to his feet. "Well, shucks, that's not too bad. The A &W's got floats galore! We'd be in dire straits if you wanted caviar."

"The A&W closed at nine, Cosmo." Don, ever the grump about being woken up at inopportune times, folded his arms as he spoke.

"Somewhere's gotta be open," he retorted. "How's about it, Kathy? You and Don stay here, and I'll go out and find you a root beer float."

She lifted her head and gave him a watery, tentative look. "You really mean it, Cosmo?"

"I'll fight a dragon for it if I have to," he told her solemnly. "Fear not! The lady will have her root beer float before the sun rises."

At this, she bounded up with all the grace she could muster at four and a half months and three forty-five in the morning, and wrapped her arms around him. "Oh, thank you, Cosmo." After she pulled away, leaving his neck wet with shed tears, she added, "You should take my car."

"Oh, but mine's been behaving lately. Ever since I stopped using it, it's been like a dream."

"I'd like my float _before_ the baby is born, please."

With a bow and flourish, Cosmo made his exit. Kathy glanced over at Don; he had managed to find the tissue box and was holding it out with all the trepidation of a man offering a steak to a hungry tiger. She took a tissue and blew her nose, and smiled a little sheepishly at him. "Oh, Don, I don't know what's gotten into me tonight."

He pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her and kissing a tearstained cheek. "I hear babies can do that to a person."

When Cosmo returned, an hour and a half later, he found Don sitting on the sofa in the living room, a soundly asleep Kathy curled up on his lap. Don grinned sleepily at him before attempting to wake her. "Kathy, your root beer float's here. You better have it before it finishes melting all over Cosmo."

She yawned, glancing bleary-eyed over to Cosmo, who was setting three cups down on an end table without thought to the coasters. "Can I have it tomorrow?"


End file.
